Barbecue Sauce (and Other Things)

While wandering through Stress City today (a “local” grocery store 20+ minutes away – not its real name, of course) I found myself frozen in the middle of the condiment aisle, blocking oncoming cart traffic.

Nothing on my list necessitated my even BEING in that aisle, and yet there I was, right in front of a very LARGE barbecue sauce display. I wasn’t secretly craving barbecued ribs; I didn’t WANT to buy barbecue sauce. I just stood there, staring.

Six rows, ten feet long, of very red bottles stared back at me. Shiny, saliva-inducing bottles of once-upon-a-time-tomatoes cooked to certain death and beyond, and then spiked with high fructose corn syrup (which predisposes diabetes) and MSG (which induces neurological toxicity).  Who knows what other additives lurked within some of those permeable plastic bottles with shelf lives of YEARS that would mock the longevity of anything in the produce section, tomatoes included. 

I stared back with a parting glare that said “no.”  The barbecue sauce would not win.  It would not allow errant taste buds to overrun my rational mind.  I knew better.  This stuff was hazardous.

Entering the next aisle skeptically, I wondered: is THIS what grocery shopping is supposed to be?  A war zone between overindulged, addicted tastes (the American dream gone culinary) and the logical mind guarding physical wellbeing?  Worse, how many people don’t even know how bad all this stuff really IS for us, particularly over the long haul?

Pushing my cart along with a glazed expression that denied eye contact with AN ENTIRE AISLE OF PRICEY PROCESSED CEREAL (especially the sugar-sweetened stuff is deadly, just ask any cell in your body), I wondered how much food in Stress City is really not food at all, but tasty ingestible material that won’t kill us (at least not immediately) but fills us up so we think we’re well-fed?  Over time, especially the last decade, I’ve come to think the answer could be appalling: most.

There are no warning signs anywhere in Stress City, which is a shame.  Cigarettes are clearly labeled with a warning sign, why not food?  Everything but that tiny display of organic produce could apply (there is no organic meat in this store).  “WARNING:  The surgeon general has determined tampered-with food to be hazardous to your health.”

Or if we wanted to be more specific, the shrink-wrapped, sectioned carcasses of chicken, pork and beef could be labeled, “hormone-laden, antibiotic-infused – known to create chemical imbalances” and specific meats could also read, “nitrite and nitrate contaminated – known to cause cancer.” Fresh vegetables could say, “pesticide-ridden, genetically modified, wax-coated, irradiated, chemically fertilized, picked green and ripened in gas chambers – distorted and known to distort when ingested.” Milk product disclaimers, even when condensed, could become a mini-tutorial: “pasteurized, homogenized dairy items encourage acidity in the human body which predisposes inflammation which in turn predisposes chronic disease; they are mucous-producing, cause arterial clogging, their calcium is not readily absorbable, and hormones fed to dairy herds induce early puberty.” And all of this is just the tip of the iceberg.

IF this is true (you ask the question with a stern look and squinty, doubtful eyes), why is it allowed?  Because, dear friends and gentle people, it’s not about the quality of our food being nutritionally superior.  It’s about MONEY.

Which brings me back to barbecue sauce and adulterated food in general.  Liking it, craving it, and then becoming addicted to it, is good for big business.  Food manufacturers do what they must to make sure we love it. Hating it is better for me in just about every sense.  Sadly, I do both, with sometimes more, and sometimes less, focus on better (if not optimal) choices. Just look at yesterday's blog.  See what I mean?